


Absolution

by Sue Corkill (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:06:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/Sue%20Corkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both Sam and Jack struggle with the fallout of Jack's blending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolution

**Author's Note:**

> For Ann, who requested a post-Abyss story that focused on Sam...I'm not sure how successful I was, but here it is. Also, special thanks to Stu for offering the masculine perspective.
> 
>  
> 
> Season Six; originally posted January 2003.

ABSOLUTION

 

_A slight breeze stirred the leaves overhead, the shadows dancing across his pale face. Sam wiped his brow, more out of something to do than for any comfort it would bring the dying man. If she listened hard enough over the sounds of his labored breathing, she could hear the far off footsteps of the Jaffa as they approached ever closer to their location._

_"He just wants you to know, Major."_

_Sam looked at Elliot in surprise. His gray eyes were wide open and amazingly clear. "That he's glad you're suffering now."_

_Sam gasped in shock, her hand falling away from his brow. He grabbed her wrist with surprising strength, holding tightly; and then she was no longer looking at the young lieutenant, but held a bloodied and dead Martouf in her arms._

_She could smell the gunpowder and cordite, the wreckage of the firefight glaringly visible, but the gateroom was eerily quiet. Her heart was pounding and her breathing sounded too loud in the still room. Blood oozed out of the multiple wounds on Martouf's chest and she realized he was now holding her wrist. She tried pulling free, but his grip suddenly tightened and Martouf opened his eyes._

_Sam gasped in shock, frantically trying to pull her hand free but she couldn't. His hard blue eyes fastened on hers and then glowed. "I've lost everything because of you." Lantesh's voice was hard and mocking. "My mate, my host, my very life." He laughed then, his voice fluctuating eerily between that of Lantesh and Martouf, when finally Lantesh spoke again. "And now you have lost everything."_

_Horrified, Sam finally managed to pull her hand loose and struggled to her feet, leaving Lantesh laughing maniacally at her feet. Running out of the gateroom, Sam found herself running up the metal stairs to the briefing room._

_"Colonel!"_

_O'Neill stood looking out the windows to the Stargate. He turned at the sound of her voice and she saw he wasn't alone. Anise was with him, he had his arm around the slim woman and she nestled into his side._

_Anise laughed, the sound cold and harsh. "We have him now and you'll never get him back!" She turned in his embrace and twined her arms around the Colonel's neck, pressing her body to his and pulling his head down to hers. She looked back over her shoulder at Sam, her smile smugly victorious._

_"Colonel!" Sam called to him again, her voice anguished and pleading. He finally looked over Anise's shoulder at her, his deep brown eyes twinkled at her and Sam gasped in shock when they glowed._

_"It's what you wanted, Sam," he said, his voice almost unrecognizable as it reverberated deeply. She sobbed and he shrugged his shoulders, wrapping his arms around Anise. "I'm only doing what you wanted." He lowered his head, brushing Anise's lips with his. "Only what you wanted."_

 

"No!" Sam screamed and bolted straight up in bed, her heart pounding in the aftermath of her nightmare. She gulped down several deep breaths, trying to get back under control. Her heart was racing, just like in the dream. Flinging back the covers, she scrambled out of her bed, needing to put some distance between herself and the nightmare. 

 

Sam walked to the window and pulled the drapes back slightly, looking out into the night. Never really totally dark at night, the ambient light illuminated her backyard and she found the familiar sight oddly reassuring. It had been three weeks since they took the Colonel to the Tok'ra. For the first couple of weeks, she had been able to accept the excuses made by Thoran for the slow progress in finding a suitable host for Kanan. Lately, the limited access to Thoran and, when they finally were allowed to speak with him, his inevitable excuses were becoming harder to believe. And through it all, the one thought that wouldn't let her rest...what had she done? 

 

Turning from the window, Sam grabbed her robe off the foot of the bed and made her way through the dark house to the kitchen. Switching on the light over the sink, she put her actions on automatic and brewed a cup of herbal tea. It didn't take long and soon she was sipping the soothing beverage. She wandered into the living room and curled up on the sofa, pulling the afghan she kept there around her. She knew she wouldn't easily fall back to sleep, the terror of the nightmare was too fresh. And unfortunately, it wasn't the first one. 

 

Two nights earlier she'd had a dream about her father. Only it hadn't really been her father, she had only spoken to Selmac. Selmac, who had calmly reassured her that Kanan had been able to heal O'Neill's illness. And then Selmac had smiled. Sam could never remember Selmac smiling before, and it hadn't been a nice smile. "He trusts us now, Samantha." With Selmac's confidently uttered words, Sam had felt herself grow cold. But, before she could say anything, her alarm clock had sounded and the dream rushed away. Because it was the only way she could deal with it, she had brushed away the fears the dream had evoked. That tactic didn't seem to be working, however, if her latest dream was any indication. Oh god, what had she done?

 

Sam's hand trembled as she set her cup of tea down on the coffee table. Hugging her knees, she huddled under the afghan. What she had done was persuade the man she loved to do something he abhorred, just so she wouldn't lose him. God, she was a selfish bitch! Oh, she had rationalized it at the time, that he was too valuable to the SGC and she had let herself believe that the information Kanan held was too valuable to lose. But...she knew he never would have done it if she hadn't asked him. If she hadn't pleaded with him. God, who was she trying to fool! She would have been down on her knees, begging him, if Hammond and Fraiser hadn't been watching! And, he had done it. He had done it for her. It wasn't pride or vanity that prompted that thought. Just the pure and simple knowledge that he trusted her and would do anything for her. Give up his life or give up his soul, he'd do it for her. Only for her....

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

She had smiled at Thoran, nodded to Hammond as the two men retreated to his office, and excused herself to Teal'c and Jonas. She managed to keep up the façade of normality for the length of time it took her to leave the briefing room and rush to her lab. Once she was safely behind the closed doors of the limited sanctuary her lab provided, she was overcome by the nausea she'd been trying to keep at bay and began helplessly heaving into her wastebasket. He was missing...he was missing...she heaved again, bringing up the last of her coffee and bagel; bile rising up, it's bitter taste filling her mouth as she spit into the metal basket. She gasped and fumbled for a tissue, wiping her mouth and sagging weakly into her chair. Blindly pulling open the bottom drawer of her desk, she pulled out the bottle of water she kept there and took a big swig, swishing the warm water around in her mouth and then once more spitting into the waste basket. Sam wiped her mouth and then sat back in the chair, exhausted. And scared, more scared than she'd ever been.

 

But, she couldn't be scared. She couldn't let the horror of what could be happening to him paralyze her. Maybe it was nothing; maybe the fact that he'd gone missing was a good thing. Yeah, right, she thought dully...as good a thing as accepting the symbiote. She had to pull herself together and return to the briefing room and somehow figure out how to get the Colonel back. They were counting on her, Jonas and Teal'c...and he was counting on her. She fought down a fresh surge of nausea. At least she hoped he was counting on her, but she was very much afraid that he wasn't, she thought miserably, since this was all her fault.

 

***************************

 

The three of them were once again clustered in her lab, it apparently becoming their temporary headquarters while they awaited word of the Colonel. The endless speculation as to if and when Yu would mount an attack on Ba'al had become the endless waiting. 

 

"According to all the intelligence I've read regarding Lord Yu, once he decides to act he works quickly and decisively." Jonas tossed out into the room. 

 

Teal'c merely nodded and Sam envied him his calm as she restlessly paced. 

 

"Of course, he might not have enough troops at his disposal currently, that could slow things down."

 

"Thanks, Jonas, that is just what I did not need to hear!" she snapped at him.

 

"I'm sorry, Sam." He didn't look particularly hurt by her attitude; he looked sympathetic and understanding. Oh god, was she really that transparent? 

 

"No," she muttered, running her hands through her hair. "I'm sorry. I just really thought we'd hear something by now. It's been over twelve hours since word was sent to Yu!"

 

"If Lord Yu acts as he has in the past, Major Carter, we should not have long to wait."

 

"I hope so, Teal'c, I really hope so." Sam sighed and sat down, wondering seriously if she opened up the laptop if she could actually work on anything when Jonas spoke.

 

"It reminds you, doesn't it?"

 

"What?" she asked, looking curiously at Jonas.

 

"What's happened to Colonel O'Neill, it reminds you of what happened to you—with Jolinar."

 

Sam felt the knot in her stomach suddenly tighten. "No," she choked out hesitantly, "this isn't anything like that." Was it? Oh god, she felt faint and her vision started to blur, the room starting to spin. Before she knew what was happening, she was on the floor and Jonas was pushing her head down between her knees.

 

"Take some deep breaths, Major Carter."

 

She blindly obeyed Teal'c's deep baritone and took in several shallow breaths, the vertigo lessening. She opened her eyes and saw Jonas's concerned brown eyes studying her carefully before he gently helped her back onto a chair. She took the bottled water Teal'c handed her and took a big swallow. "Thanks," she murmured.

 

"Sam, I'm sorry..." Jonas apologized and Sam wondered if anything escaped his all too perceptive mind. 

 

"No, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened," she hedged.

 

"You hadn't made the connection yet?" Jonas asked, seemingly determined to follow through with his line of thought.

 

She smiled weakly. "I guess not...." She shook her head and considered what Jonas had suggested. "It really isn't even close at all."

 

"I believe you deceive yourself, Major Carter."

 

Sam looked at Teal'c then and looked away somewhat guiltily at the understanding she saw in his eyes. "Maybe, Teal'c. But I still don't think you can compare our situations."

 

"No, Teal'c's right. First, both of you were taken against your will by a Goa'uld."

 

"Jonas, the Colonel agreed..."

 

"Under duress," the younger man countered. "You can't tell me that Colonel O'Neill would have agreed if he'd been in full control of his cognitive functions?"

 

She couldn't argue with that. "No, you're right, he wouldn't have agreed." There, she'd finally said it out loud to someone other than herself. Jonas nodded, his expression somber, as if finding the expected confirmation with her words.

 

"Second, once blended, both your symbiotes have acted in a manner contrary to that which we expect from the Tok'ra." Jonas' voice hardened. "In fact, Jolinar and Kanan both acted more like the Goa'uld than the Tok'ra."

 

"You may be right," she finally admitted. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

 

"O'Neill will require your assistance, Major Carter."

 

She turned bleak blue eyes towards the Jaffa. She knew she would do whatever was needed to help the Colonel, that is if he would accept her help after what she'd done...what she'd asked him to do.

 

As if reading her mind, he rumbled. "O'Neill will survive."

 

"I hope you're..." her words were by the ringing of her phone. Not even finishing the sentence, Sam jumped up and raced to answer it. It was Hammond. She looked at Teal'c and Jonas, "We've been contacted by the Tok'ra—they have the Colonel!"

 

***********************

 

Sam staggered and Jonas clutched her elbow, his easy strength steadying her. "Thanks," she murmured. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought."

 

"It's been a long day--and night." He smiled gently at her wan face, walking along side her while she continued down the corridor towards her lab. "You're not going to sleep in the lab again, are you?"

 

She gave him a self-conscious smile. "I just want to stay close by, just in case." She didn't have to specify what she meant, Jonas knew exactly—she wanted to stay close by in case the Colonel needed anything. Not that the he would ask. Jonas had figured out very early the strained circumstances under which his two human teammates existed. He followed her into the lab. Whether Sam Carter knew it or not, she needed someone to talk with. He wasn't blind and hadn't missed the pain that had flashed across her face when they had been briefed on what had happened to O'Neill. She had quickly disguised it, presenting her usual calm and collected face to those around her. But Jonas knew.

 

He wandered idly around her lab, looking at the few books on the shelves. "Is there something you wanted, Jonas?"

 

He picked up a book of quantum physics off her desk, his voice casual when he asked, "Have you ever been tortured?" He looked steadily at her, she had gone pale and she sank unsteadily into her chair.

 

"Yes, yes I have."

 

Jonas felt a fresh pang of sympathy for her, but persevered, she needed to talk to someone. "I can't even begin to imagine what that must be like."

 

"What happened to the Colonel is completely different from any other kind of torture any of us have ever experienced." Her voice broke slightly, but she continued. "He was tortured to death...and then revived, time after time." She shivered, "No one can even begin to imagine what that must've been like."

 

"It must have been horrible."

 

"When I think about what he went through, it just turns my blood cold. You heard Shallan describe the kind of torture Ba'al used on his victims?"

 

He had, and it had also turned his blood cold. Reading mission reports, like the one from SG-1's mission to Netu was one thing, but to actually encounter the aftereffects first hand, well, it was sobering. She shivered again and Jonas could see the tears welling in her eyes. Like most men, crying women made him uncomfortable, but this was Sam. A huge shudder ran through her and before he could even think about the ramifications, Jonas pulled her into his arms. She stiffened for a moment, but then with a muffled sob, she wrapped her arms around him and he held her while she cried.

 

Her sobs finally gave way to only an occasional sniffle and Jonas gently released her, guiding her to one of the chairs. He handed her his handkerchief and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She smiled wetly at him and pocketed the handkerchief; "I'll wash it for you."

 

"No problem," he murmured quietly. "Teal'c's right, Sam. He's going to need you."

 

Her eyes were still bright with tears when she whispered. "I told him once that being taken by Jolinar was the worst thing that ever happened to me." She looked right at him and Jonas felt her pain when she continued. "And then I asked him to take a symbiote." She gave a harsh laugh that held no humor, only a deep despair. 

 

"Sam, you can let guilt paralyze you or you can use that energy for something constructive--helping the Colonel. Believe me, I know."

 

She gave him a wan smile. "It's not that easy, Jonas."

 

"Nothing worth doing--or having--ever is, Sam." 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"How is he, Janet?"

 

"I think he's up to a visitor, Sam."

 

Sam lingered a bit longer. "Has he said anything? Told you what happened?"

 

"Just bits and pieces, Sam." The doctor's look was sympathetic. "He's strong, Sam. Otherwise he'd never had made it back to the Tok'ra." 

 

Sam nodded and watched Janet walk away. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the partially open door. "Colonel?"

 

"Come in."

 

His voice was still weak, but it sounded much stronger than it had two days earlier. She entered the room, feeling surprisingly awkward and nervous at seeing him again after that first night. "Hey, sir. Janet says you're doing better." She helplessly drank in the sight of him. He did actually look better, he wasn't as pale, and his eyes were bright and clear. If there was a deeper sadness lurking in their depths, she chose to ignore it.

 

"Yeah, the doc and everybody have been fussing over me like a bunch of wet hens."

 

She chuckled, because that's what she knew he'd intended by his glib comment. "We were all worried about you." There was so much more she wanted to say, but she wasn't sure how to even start. And to be honest, she was relieved that he was treating it casually, maybe all her fears could just fade away into nothingness.

 

"Hammond briefed me on your plan. Good thinking, Carter."

 

Following his lead and ignoring the small voice that said she owed him, she took the easy way out. "It was Teal'c who actually came up with the plan to contact Yu, sir." 

 

"Well, it was a good plan."

 

"And Jonas, he was the one who figured out Kanan's motivation." She knew she was starting to babble, but she couldn't seem to stop. "In fact..."

 

"Kanan's motivation?" His face suddenly darkened and his voice turned harsh. "Well, if he's figured out Kanan's motivation then maybe he would enlighten me because I don't have a clue what motivated that son of a bitch."

 

His change of mood was so abrupt, that she was momentarily taken aback. "Ah..."

 

"It's okay, Carter, you don't have to answer that." He gave her a half smile. "I'm not sure I really care what high and noble motives that bastard had for abandoning me to Ba'al. I'm sure if you ask Thoran it will all be some crap about the greater good of the Tok'ra." 

 

"Colonel..." her voice trailed off. In spite of all her wishful thinking, his bitter words told her that she needed to apologize, to explain, and to ask his forgiveness for plunging him into that nightmare. She wanted to confess and receive absolution....

 

He interrupted her though, closing his eyes, a brief look of pain flashing across his face before her spoke. "Don't worry, Carter. I know it was all for my own good, to save my life and all." He opened his eyes then, their brown depths full of hopelessness. "But it didn't really matter, did it? I died anyway."

 

"Sir..." she whispered, her voice full of despair. But he had closed his eyes again and turned his face away from her, effectively dismissing her. She slowly backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. So, she thought grimly, he hadn't forgiven her. Which only seemed fair, since she couldn't forgive herself.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam dreamt again that night, thankful that when she woke with her heart pounding and tears fresh on her face, that it had just been a dream. Knowing she wouldn't get anymore sleep that night, she got out of bed and throwing on her robe, padded down the hallway to the kitchen. Listlessly pouring water into the kettle, she set about making a cup of tea. She chuckled mirthlessly, wondering if she made a cup of tea for the Colonel if it would help make his dreams go away? That he dreamt, she had no doubt...which made her wonder if you dreamed while in the sarcophagus.... She shivered, and not from the cool early morning air. He had been dead...numerous times. And resurrected...numerous times, only to die again and again. She could feel the hysteria of the dream winding up in her again and she firmly clamped down on it. Her hand only shook slightly when she added a teaspoon of sugar to her tea, which didn't offer her much comfort. Sighing, Sam walked carefully to the living room and curled up on the sofa, pulling her afghan around her.

 

Blowing gently across the top of the steaming liquid, she took a small sip, the hot liquid doing nothing to melt the chill she felt in her soul. She had thought finding the Colonel would magically make everything better, that once he was safely home life would return to normal. Had she really been so naïve to think that Kanan's little hijacking of the Colonel would be without repercussions? She took another sip of the tea, her thoughts returning unbidden to her nightmare, unable to let it go. 

 

_The room was sumptuous, elaborately appointed and she instinctively knew where she was...and whom she was with. She never saw his face, but she could sense the strength and power emanating from him—and his symbiote. His voice was a low and seductive murmur in her ear, the warmth from his lean body surrounding her as he stood close behind her, steadying her outstretched arm with one of his._

_"Do not be afraid," he whispered, placing his hand around hers, the lace from his cuff falling lightly across her fingers as he adjusted her grip on the knife. "Your lover will not die."_

_She wanted to tell him that the Colonel wasn't her lover, but knew he would see through her words to what lay in hidden her heart—and he already knew too much. So instead, she vainly searched the dim recesses of the room for the Colonel. She couldn't see him, yet she knew he was there...waiting. Waiting for her to help him, to rescue him._

_She opened her mouth, to call out to him, but before she could, Ba'al whispered smoothly in her ear, "You have killed him before." His fingers tightened brutally around her wrist, her grip loosened on the knife and before she knew what was happening, it slid smoothly from her grasp. Sam watched in horror, as the knife seemed to fly of its own volition, deep into the shadows of the room. She tried to pull away from Ba'al, but he wrapped a muscular arm around her waist, holding her securely. A strangled cry of pain sounded from somewhere in the darkness in front of her and she sobbed, her knees buckling. She sagged helplessly in the Goa'uld's strong embrace, tears starting to run down her face when she realized what had just happened. And all the while, she could hear Ba'al's voice whispering triumphantly in her ear, "Do not cry, my pet. You have not killed him...this time."_

 

She shuddered, hell; she didn't need to be a psychiatrist to unravel the symbolism of the dream. Even the worst thing she had imagined wasn't as bad as what had actually happened to the Colonel. In fact, out of every scenario that she had thought of, nothing like being repeatedly tortured, killed and then revived had even crossed her mind! Her tea was suddenly unappetizing and she sat it down, hugging her knees, guilt and despair settling over her like a damp cloud. How could he ever forgive her for putting into motion the events that had resulted in something infinitely worse than death?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jack tried ignoring the insistent ringing of the doorbell, but finally gave in when he heard the familiar voice hesitantly call his name. It had been such a relief to finally get home that he hadn't wanted his solitude interrupted, but he couldn't turn her away. Opening the door, he had to shade his eyes against the bright afternoon light. There were still some side effects from his recovery, and this was one of them; he could barely make out Sam's silhouette against the bright sun. She just stood there and he finally relented, standing back from the door and gesturing for her to enter.

 

She walked into the room and once he'd closed the door, he was able to get a good look at her. She stood a bit awkwardly, looking remarkably uncomfortable, while he looked her over. She was wearing a skirt, which surprised him. He couldn't remember the last time—if ever—that he'd seen in her a dress that wasn't her uniform. It was a late summer day though, probably more comfortable, he decided. Still not saying anything, he walked back over to the sofa and sat down. She hesitantly followed him and sat down next to him—something that again surprised him. 

 

"What are you doing here, Carter?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.

 

She looked down at her hands, then back up at him before answering. He ignored the pleading look in her eyes. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

 

"Your turn today?" he asked. She looked confused and he added, "Teal'c came by yesterday."

 

"Ah, no..." She took him by surprise then, when she suddenly moved closer to him on the sofa, reaching out and resting her right hand on his forearm. 

 

His skin burned where she touched him and he blurted out her name. "Sam..." Her eyes dilated and she gasped softly, her hand clutching at his arm.

 

Some of what happened next was still a blur, while other parts were vividly clear. As if his use of her name released something in her, she shifted closer to him. He felt the sofa cushion sink down slightly and her knee brush against his while she brought a soft hand up to tenderly caress his cheek...and then her soft lips were gently caressing his. Her breath was a soft sigh over his face and he found himself helplessly searching for her lips. She evaded him though, planting a trail of wet kisses along his jaw line and down his throat. She moved closer to him and—somehow—he found himself lying down on the sofa while she hovered him. Cool hands glided down to his waist and tugged at the hem of his T-shirt. It was pulled over his head and then, oh god, and then her hot mouth and caressing hands were on his chest. 

 

He didn't know how she knew, but somehow she found each spot on his chest, his shoulders, where Ba'al's knives and acid had penetrated into him. Her gentle touch and soft kisses soothing away pain that was just now slowly fading. He reached up and gently caressed her hair, whatever protests he might have made fading when she gently pulled away from his tentative caress and sat up, straddling his thighs. 

 

No longer hesitant, her hands were sure when she trailed them down his chest and grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging them down and freeing his erection. Her skirt had ridden up on her thighs and when she raised herself up on her knees above him, he caught tantalizing glimpses of her hidden secrets. All coherent thought fled, though, when one soft hand gently grasped his penis and she gently lowered herself down onto his straining flesh.

 

She seemed to struggle for a moment, and he groaned at the erotic feel of her soft flesh brushing against the sensitive head of his penis, but then he was suddenly inside her and enfolded within her hot depths. He moaned at the overwhelming sensations she evoked with her loving actions as she started rocking her pelvis against him. He forced his eyes open, mesmerized by the incredibly carnal sight of Sam riding him; her skirt hiked up around her waist, her head thrown back as she moved her pelvis steadily against him. 

 

Placing his hands on her hips he blindly followed her movements and let her actions carry him away. Too soon, he felt his orgasm start low in his gut as it began its relentless spread through his body. It was wonderful and intense and...disappointingly brief; racing through him, leaving him weak and helpless beneath her. Even as his body continued to shudder in the aftermath, the onslaught of intense emotion was suddenly more than he could take. Finding the strength from somewhere, Jack abruptly sat up and with a soft cry, Sam tumbled off him. He felt an uneasy combination of despair and anger rise up in him as he dispassionately watched her struggle to right herself and tug her clothing back into place.

 

"Jack?" she whispered, the soft bloom of passion on her cheeks giving way to the flush of embarrassment as she straightened her skirt.

 

"Was this part of the treatment plan, Major?" She winced at his harsh tone but he ignored her and continued. "One more step in my rehabilitation?"

 

"I...no, Colonel, sir," she whispered, stumbling a bit over the reminder of their respective positions.

 

He stood then, tugging his sweats back into place and grabbing his T-shirt, putting it back on. "I don't need your help Carter, and I certainly don't need a pity fuck." Ignoring her soft gasp he turned his back on her and left the living room. He paused in the hallway, his anger leaving as quickly as it had appeared when he heard the front door gently close behind her. He didn't know if he was relieved that she had left or mad that she hadn't stayed to fight it out with him. All he knew was that he still felt like he had no control over his life--the ease with which she had seduced him only reinforcing his helplessness.

 

***************************

 

Her senses still humming, Sam watched his back in stunned silence as he walked away from her. Oh god...she suddenly hit reality with a thump—what had just happened? Realizing she needed to escape, she fumbled on the floor for her panties, finally finding them under the coffee table and she quickly scooped them—and her purse—up. She didn't even try to put them on, just stuffing them in her purse and leaving as quickly as she could. It wasn't until she was on the other side of the closed door that enormity of what had happened hit her. 

 

She hadn't planned on seducing him; she hadn't planned on anything except seeing him. She had been taken off guard by Janet's decision to discharge him so soon. When he hadn't been in the infirmary when she'd stopped by earlier in the day, she'd almost panicked until one of the nurses told her he'd been discharged. Oh, she'd tried to continue with her work, but she couldn't concentrate. She hadn't been unable to focus on anything, still too disturbed by her latest dream and the unexpectedly overpowering need to see him, to reassure herself that he was okay that it seemed to have engendered. Rationally, she knew it was bordering on obsession, but this time, she seemed helpless to control her feelings regarding him.

 

She forced herself to stay all day in her lab and then had managed the drive home and had herself convinced that she didn't need to see him when she found herself driving to his house. And now...she abruptly realized she was still standing barefoot on his porch, her sandals somewhere in his living room. Fumbling in her purse for the car keys, she walked barefoot to her car; feeling dirty and ashamed and vividly aware of the wetness between her thighs as his semen leaked out of her.

 

Sam barely remembered the drive home, she was only aware of the overwhelming feeling of relief at finally reaching some place safe. Once inside, she hurried to her bedroom, stripping off her clothes and going into the bathroom. Turning the shower on as hot as she could stand it, she stood under the pounding water, letting it wash away the evidence of her foolishness. Tears soon mingled with the water running down her face. She had managed to totally screw up her relationship with him, which caused her to chuckle mirthlessly. They had no relationship, and even less of a chance of one now. Sam had only wanted to comfort him, to help him...to ultimately seek his forgiveness. She didn't even know what had motivated her to kiss him, but it certainly hadn't been out of pity. And like everything else she'd done lately, her actions had turned on her and all she seemed capable of doing to the Colonel was to cause him pain. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jonas discreetly watched Sam while she obtained her soil samples. He glanced over at O'Neill, who had binoculars held up to his eyes while he surveyed the wide-open expanse of alien prairie. SG-1 had quickly returned back to their usual schedule, after Fraiser had released O'Neill for duty. And Jonas couldn't fault the doctor's decision. O'Neill certainly looked and acted like the events of a month ago had never happened. So what if he was even more taciturn than usual? Snapping out commands, falling back into what even Jonas recognized as full military mode. Which was something he was all too familiar with, from his interactions with the military on his home world. The gentle camaraderie and joking between O'Neill and any of his team members was conspicuously absent. Jonas looked at Sam and found her watching O'Neill as well, a wistful expression on her face. 

 

"Carter!" O'Neill's voice was rough and Jonas winced inside when her face fell, but she quickly hid it. "You have those samples yet?"

 

"Almost there, sir." Her response was brief and respectful. And if O'Neill heard the pain in her voice, he ignored it. Just like they all ignored the undercurrents swirling around their team since their leader's return from the Tok'ra. 

 

Jonas stood and walked over to where Teal'c stood guard. "This can't go on," he muttered.

 

"What do you suggest, Jonas Quinn?"

 

"I don't know, but there has to be something!"

 

Teal'c nodded. "Perhaps there is a way."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"O'Neill."

 

"Yeah, Teal'c?" Jack pounded the punching bag a few more times before stopping and steadying the moving bag, looked at Teal'c.

 

"Your team is suffering."

 

Jack turned back to the bag. "Don't know what you mean, T." Jack started punching the bag again. "You and Jonas seem fine to me."

 

"It is not to myself or Jonas that I refer."

 

Jack pounded the bag even harder. "Yeah, well, in case you hadn't noticed. I'm fine."

 

"So you say, O'Neill." Teal'c's voice was as even as always, but Jack was sure he detected a thin note of skepticism. "However, Samantha Carter is not."

 

The big guy's words surprised him. Teal'c had been privy to enough of his moods to know that discussing Sam Carter was one thing he was not going to do. "She's a big girl, Teal'c. She'll get over whatever is bothering her."

 

"She holds herself doubly responsible, O'Neill."

 

That got his attention and Jack finally stopped hitting the bag and glared at his friend. "And how does she figure that?"

 

"She persuaded you to accept the Tok'ra symbiote."

 

Jack nodded. He didn't remember too much from when he was sick, but he remembered that. He remembered all too well the plea in her voice and the relief that washed across her face when he'd nodded his assent. Not exactly the wisest decision he'd ever made. "Yeah, well, it all worked out. I got cured and the Tok'ra got their all important Intel."

 

"She also feels responsible for Kanan's decision to return for Shallan and your resulting imprisonment and torture."

 

"And she told you this when?"

 

"She did not need to tell me, O'Neill. It is obvious to those who know her—and you—well."

 

Right, Jack thought, if it was so obvious why hadn't he seen it? Because you've been avoiding her ever since that night. Ever since he'd had that brief glimpse of heaven in her arms. Then he would remember what happened to men who let their feelings influence them. And that included feelings for blonde haired women who motivated men to risk everything to save them. And what did loving a woman bring? Lies, pain, torture and ultimately death—with a little sex thrown in somewhere along the way.

 

But, shit, that wasn't what Teal'c was talking about. Jack reluctantly brought his attention back to his friend. "It wasn't Carter's fault, it wasn't anybody's fault--except maybe Kanan's. And he's dead or missing. End of story."

 

Teal'c merely nodded with that enigmatic expression that generally drove him nuts. "As you say, O'Neill. However I do not believe Major Carter feels the same way."

 

"You sound like you've been taking some lessons from Mackenzie, Teal'c."

 

"There is no need for insults, O'Neill. We are merely concerned for you and Major Carter."

 

"We?"

 

"Jonas Quinn and myself."

 

"Ah, so Jonas is in on this little pep talk, as well?"

 

"He is a member of SG-1, he is worried."

 

"Yeah, right, everyone's concerned about SG-1."

 

"O'Neill, we have been through much together—you and Samantha Carter have been through much together. You do us all a disservice by not tending to this matter."

 

"Right...tending to this matter." Jack tugged his gloves off, tossing them aside and grabbing his towel. The last thing he intended to do was to seek out Carter and apologize for his behavior. She'd get over it, he'd get over it and life would go on—he hoped.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Janet?" 

 

Janet Fraiser looked up from her desk. A weary looking Sam Carter stood in her doorway. "Come in, Sam," she invited, gesturing to the other woman to sit in the chair opposite her desk. She cast a critical eye over her friend. Paler than usual face, dark shadows under her eyes and she'd lost some weight as well. She really didn't look too good. Janet knew the reason why and sadly, there wasn't much she could do to remedy the situation, except to listen. "What can I do for you?" she asked, her voice gentle, closing the chart she'd been reading.

 

"I've been having trouble sleeping." Sam paused, a mass of conflicting emotions racing across her voice before she continued. "I was ah, wondering if you could give me something."

 

Pills wouldn't help Sam's particular problem, but after a long moment that had Sam shifting uneasily, Janet opened the desk drawer and pulled out a prescription pad. "I'm going to give you enough for a week," she said, scribbling on the pad. Tearing the paper off, she handed it to Sam. "This isn't going to solve your problem, honey."

 

Sam's hand trembled slightly as she took the paper from her outstretched hand, telling Janet that her condition was probably worse than she had initially suspected. "Sam," she said, more urgently, "you can't go on like this. You're going to have to talk to someone." And then, for what little good it would do, she added, "You need to talk to him."

 

Sam's face turned almost completely white, and Janet could see her struggle to maintain her composure. Sam stood and started backing towards the door, not meeting her eyes. "Thanks, Janet." Janet had opened up her folder again, surprised when Sam paused at the door, her hand on the doorknob. "I know...it's just...every time I try to make it better between the Colonel and myself, I just make it worse." And with those parting words, she slipped out the door. Janet stared after her; Sam had sounded so defeated, not like her usual take-charge self. Sighing, she tried to concentrate on Airman Jensen's lab results, wishing there was more she could do to help her friend and a certain wounded Colonel to mend their fractured relationship.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam paced her bedroom, holding the bottle of sleeping pills in her hand, agonizing over whether to take one or wondering if maybe tonight would be one of the rare nights when she wouldn't dream. Unfortunately, she didn't need Janet to tell her that pills weren't the solution. She knew what the remedy was, she just didn't think she had the courage to confront him again. The strain in their relationship had reached amazing new heights ever since her last attempt to 'talk' to him had ended so disastrously. Even Jonas and Teal'c weren't immune to the undercurrents, though they doggedly tried to act like everything was okay between the members of SG-1. She opened the bottle, tumbling one of the small white capsules into her palm. If she could only get a good night's sleep, maybe she'd feel more clear-headed and then she would talk to the Colonel—first thing in the morning. But of course, that was the same promise she'd made every night since his return. And of course, it didn't matter how rested she felt in the morning, as it was never enough to give her the courage to seek him out. 

 

God, when had she become such a coward? Second-guessing every decision and thought she had? This wasn't like her and she was tired of being scared. If he didn't want her, he didn't want her. If he couldn't forgive her, he couldn't forgive her. If he wanted her removed from SG-1, she'd ask for a transfer. No matter what way it went, she needed to settle this for her own peace of mind. Janet was right, she needed to talk and she needed to talk to him. Dropping the sleeping pill back into the bottle, Sam quickly dressed and got into her car, driving to his house before her courage deserted her.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam pounded on the door again. Eventually, a light appeared and she heard his aggravated voice. "All right already, just give me a second." He was annoyed, but then she was used to that. The door suddenly flew open and she would have laughed at the look of shock on his face if she wasn't so nervous. 

 

"Carter," he finally drawled, leaning against the doorjamb, clad only in a T-shirt and boxers. "What brings you out this late? Looking to bring me some more 'comfort'?"

 

Ah, Jack O'Neill, once more in control and playing it his sarcastic best. She wasn't going to let him shock her. "If that's what you need," she murmured, ignoring his jibe and brushing past him into the living room. Setting her purse on the floor, she shrugged out of the cardigan she'd put on to ward off the chill of the late summer night. She rubbed her bare arms, not because she was cold—Jack's house was surprisingly warm—any chill she felt was emanating from the man glowering at her from the entryway.

 

"We need to talk," she told him bluntly. And his reaction was typical.

 

"I don't need to talk, Carter." He swaggered past her into the living room, sitting down on the sofa. Spreading his arms across the back of the sofa, he sat back and grinned derisively at her. "But it you need to talk, be my guest."

 

She wandered over to the fireplace, running her hand along the cool wood of the mantle before she turned and faced him. "Do you have dreams?" She didn't wait for him to reply, merely checked his reaction with a quick look. He was sitting perfectly still now, the smile replaced with his patented look of bored indifference. "I do," she murmured. "I dream that I kill you over and over again." His apathetic expression disappeared with her words and he sat up a bit straighter. Good, she was getting through to him. "Oh, I know I didn't actually kill you...I only persuaded you to something you'd never forgive me for, to accept a symbiote." 

 

"Sam," he interrupted harshly, but she shushed him with a motion of her hand.

 

"I know why Kanan went back for her." His expression closed up again, but she forged ahead. "The real reason, not the one you gave Hammond and Thoran. It wasn't responsibility and it wasn't any of that 'never leave anyone behind' bullshit." 

 

"So, what was it?" he asked softly. He didn't sound angry anymore, he sounded resigned. 

 

Encouraged, she slowly crossed the room until she reached the sofa, and then she knelt down at his feet. She placed a tentative hand on his thigh, his skin warm against her palm, his whole body stiffening at the unexpected touch. She looked directly into his eyes, "You did it because of me." 

 

His eyes flickered away from hers, as if he was unable to bear her gaze. She rose up a bit on her knees, removing her hand from his thigh and placing it over his heart. He seemed to stop breathing at her touch, and she could feel his heart racing under her palm when he finally looked at her. She stopped breathing herself at the look of utter despair in his deep brown eyes.

 

"It doesn't matter why Kanan did what he did, Sam. Or what influence I may have had on him."

 

"It matters to me," she whispered urgently.

 

"Well, it can't," he muttered abruptly, rising to his feet. His sudden movement caught her off guard and she let out a soft cry when she lost her balance, landing in soft heap on the floor. Pulling herself together, she sat on the floor and watched as he paced the room. 

 

"Jack," she said softly, "stop."

 

He stopped then, adopting her original pose at the fireplace. His eyes were haunted, his expression grim. "What do you want me to say, Sam? I remember very little of the time that Kanan and I were actually blended." He gave a bitter laugh. "Guess the Tok'ra don't trust me anymore than I trust them. The whole time Ba'al tortured me, I was in the dark—clueless." Her heart ached for him when he shook his head, his expression reflecting the confusion and anger he must have felt when he couldn't remember what Ba'al wanted. 

 

"But, I thought you remembered about the girl?"

 

"Not specifics, only bits and pieces, general impressions." He looked directly at her then. "I knew he loved her, in his own way. And I knew what Ba'al would do to her if he found out."

 

"But, he didn't."

 

He sighed. "No, your plan worked. No more virus, girl saved, end of story. No need for you to feel guilty—for anything."

 

He was closing down on her. Scrambling to her feet, she smoothed her skirt down, crossing the room to stand next to him. He didn't move, and she linked her hand with his, twining her fingers through his. He shuddered and she tightened her grip. "I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered.

 

"You didn't, Sam."

 

"If I hadn't asked you to take Kanan, none of this would have happened."

 

He chuckled dryly. "I'd be dead." He tugged his hand free and she reluctantly released his hand, gasping softly when he wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. "Which reminds me," he added, tilting her face up with a gentle touch on her chin. "I never thanked you."

 

"For what?" she asked, totally confused by his abrupt change in tone and mood.

 

"For saving my life."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jack had meant his comment sincerely and he'd hoped to reassure her and maybe even lighten her mood; what he hadn't expected were her tears. However, it seemed he had seriously misjudged the depth of her feelings regarding his ordeal—and her role in it. Though, he should have figured it out, especially after what happened the last time that she came to his house. He had no one to blame but himself, and his own seriously disturbed psyche, for the way he'd reacted. It certainly didn't excuse him, but then her subsequent actions that day had knocked him totally off balance. And he was only now recovering from the fallout—of Kanan, Ba'al and Sam. 

 

The actions of Kanan—and the Tok'ra—were really no big surprise to him, once he'd figured out what had happened. That Kanan had kept his consciousness completely separate from his was understandable, given the distrust between the two 'allies'. And in a weird sort of way, he felt some sympathy for Kanan and his plight. It must've been a hell of a shock to the Tok'ra to suddenly find himself compelled to return for the girl he had used and discarded. And Ba'al, well, Goa'uld System Lords were pretty easy to understand, persistent, egotistical and unwilling to listen to reason—or to take no for an answer. Ba'al had pretty much acted true to form. And if he still woke up in the middle of the night, his heart pounding from a dream he couldn't remember, well, he knew he'd eventually get over it. Which only left the actions of the woman currently crying in his arms. 

 

Swinging her up in his arms, he ignored her small gasp and tightened his arms as she buried her wet face in his throat. He made a one-eighty around the living room before heading down the hall towards his bedroom, reluctantly acknowledging that they would now end up there sooner, rather than later. He shouldered his way through the door, gently placing her on his rather messy bed, the tangled sheets evidence of his own inability to sleep. He closed the window and the drapes, turning the AC back on and turned back to the bed. The dim light from the one bedside lamp cast a muted glow over Sam as she lay on his bed. 

 

She was pale, her eyes and nose pink from her tears. She sniffled and he smiled slightly, detouring to the bathroom and returning with some tissues. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, angled so that he faced her, he tenderly wiped at her cheeks with one of the tissues. She smiled wetly at him and took the damp tissue from him, delicately blowing her nose. Smiling in tenderly in return, he took the tissue from her, tossing it in the wastebasket. He gazed at her in wonder, reaching up with a hesitant hand to gently stroke her hair. 

 

"Why do you cry?" She shuddered slightly, her eyes once more filling with tears. She took a deep breath and he could see her pull her emotions back under control. "No, don't," he suddenly urged, not wanting her to run from him and hide behind her normally rigid self control. "Don't hide from me," he commanded softly.

 

"I don't want to," she whispered. "But I can't help but think that SG-1 might be better off without me."

 

His hand paused momentarily in her hair, her words catching him totally off guard. Had he really let things get that bad between them that she felt the only thing she could was to leave the team? To leave him? "Sam..."

 

"Jack," she interrupted, her voice weary and her eyes once more shadowed. "Do you really think that I asked you do something you swore you'd never do just because you're a good CO and the Tok'ra needed the information Kanan had?"

 

Okay, she was confusing the hell out of him. "I guess I never really thought about it..."

 

"I guess that serves me right," she laughed wryly, pushing herself into a sitting position.

 

He scooted back, panicking a bit when it looked like she was going to leave. "No, Sam," he edged closer to her, "I didn't have to think about it, because I know." He leaned over her, forcing her back down onto the bed. She looked so beautiful—and so distressed. "It's not the end of the world, you know," he countered, framing her face with his hands.

 

Her lower lip trembled slightly when she whispered, "It seemed like it."

 

"But it wasn't." She opened her mouth again and before she could speak, he lowered his head to her lips, brushing his mouth against hers with soft, teasing touches. Biting lightly at her lips he murmured, "It's over, Sam. Time to move on." 

 

A soft hand slid into his hair and she tugged slightly, pulling his head back. Serious blue eyes searched his. "Just like that?"

 

Hell, he knew he'd by lying if he told her it was that easy. Easing more of his weight down on her, he threaded the fingers of his right hand through her hair. "Okay, maybe more like one step at time," he grimaced a little bit at the over-used cliché, pleased when her lips curved into a small smile. "You saved my life, Sam, twice. Once, when you persuaded me to agree to the blending and then again when you—and Teal'c and Jonas—figured out where Kanan had taken me." 

 

"There's a lot you left out, Jack."

 

"So things didn't go as planned, that's not your fault." He shrugged his shoulders, "It was no one's fault but Kanan's and he's gone." Jack wasn't too clear on what had actually happened to Kanan, but the Tok'ra was definitely on the missing list. "You can take a responsibility for a lot, Sam, but I won't let you take responsibility for that."

 

"Jack..."

 

"Aaahhhh!" he growled teasingly, watching entranced as her mouth snapped shut and she blushed. "Enough talk." He stopped, suddenly unsure, remembering the last—and first time—they'd been together. She had offered herself so freely and he had let her take him, only to throw it back in her face. "That is if you want..." and it was his turn to feel insecure as he waited for her reply.

 

"Enough talk," she agreed with a shy smile. "And I definitely want."

 

"It'll be better this time, I promise," he told her, his voice urgent, the need to reassure her rising from somewhere deep inside him. His hands tangled in her hair, "I don't think I was thinking too clearly the last time you were here." God, he was making a mess of it, not thinking too clearly? Shit, he was damn lucky she hadn't slapped him upside the head already, what with his clumsy attempts at apologizing and his blatant attempt to get her into his bed.

 

Her beautiful blue eyes softened and her smile turned sweetly indulgent. One slight hand worked its way to his face, delicately caressing his cheek, the tips of her fingers rubbing gently against the slight roughness of his day's growth of stubble. "You said it yourself, Jack. It's time to move on—with everything." 

 

A shudder ran through him when she looped her arms around his neck, pulling him down, her lips seeking his. For the first time since he'd opened his front door and saw her standing there, Jack felt the perpetual tension he always felt in her presence drain away. It was going to be all right; they were going to be all right. Their lips met, gentle at first, light caressing touches that spoke of shared tenderness and affection. But soon the light touches weren't enough and her hand in his hair tightened, urging him on. Tracing her lower lip with his tongue, Jack settled further into her embrace, groaning softly when she finally opened her mouth to him. Sweeping his tongue into the hot depths of her mouth, he drank deeply from her, savoring her taste, her touch, everything he'd missed the first time. Stroking her tongue with his, he rubbed his chest against her breasts, delighting in the sharp bite of her nails into his shoulders. 

 

She mewed in protest when he pulled his mouth away from hers, her eyes already darkening with desire, her rosy lips swollen and moist from his kisses. "It's okay, baby," he assured her while he tugged her skirt up, urging her legs apart with a firm touch. She moaned softly, her eyes never leaving his as she complied, shifting and moving with him until he knelt between her spread legs. God, she was beautiful and she wanted him. He couldn't stop the slight tremble in his hands when he reached out to touch her, gliding his work-roughened palms up her tender thighs; desire howling through him when her hips lifted instinctively to his touch. Ignoring the lure of her hidden treasures, he brought his hands to her waist, catching the hem of the white cotton camisole top she wore, gliding his hands smoothly along her ribcage, the soft material of the thin top bunching up with his measured touch. He paused when his hands reached the lower curve of her breasts; he could feel her chest moving rapidly with each panting breath that she took, her heart racing to his touch. She whimpered and arched her back and he answered her silent plea, pulling the garment up and off. 

 

Flinging the top aside, he once more placed his hands on her lower rib cage and stared at the elegant beauty now revealed to him. She hadn't worn a bra.... Jack moved his hands, gently cupping the pale globes and he felt her suddenly tense and hold her breath as his thumbs brushed the delicate pink tips. Sam moaned softly as he continued the tender caress, her nipples pebbling delightfully at his touch. Her hands clutched at his forearms, her legs moving restlessly as he continued to gently pluck at the tight buds; her nails suddenly digging in when he lowered his head to one rosy peak, sucking it deeply into his mouth. 

 

"Oh, god, Jack..." she whimpered, her hands now clenching in his hair, holding him to her breast while he feasted on her succulent flesh. Primitive satisfaction coursed through him at her helpless response to his touch. Nipping gently at the tender nubbin, he released it and quickly took its mate into his hot mouth, Sam's soft cries of pleasure spurring him on. Jack continued to suckle at her breast while his hands searched the waistband of her skirt, seeking the fastening. Finally finding the back zipper, he reluctantly released her breast and sat back on his knees, pulling the zip down. Sam smiled up languidly at him as she bent her knees on either side of him, lifting her hips so he could more easily remove her skirt and panties. And then in a movement of such flexibility and grace that it almost left him breathless, Sam raised first one long leg and then the other as he slid the rest of her clothing off in one smooth caress. 

 

Letting the garments flutter carelessly to the floor, he could only stare in awe at the sight of his lover displayed so wantonly before him. Her pale breasts with their rosy tips, hard and wet from his mouth; her flat belly quivering with every breath she took; the blonde curls nestled so tantalizingly at the juncture of her thighs, vainly trying to hide her secrets from him. As he gazed at her, he was entranced by the soft blush he could see developing. After everything they'd shared, still so shy. "Jack," she pleaded, her slender arms reaching out to him, beckoning to him. He shuddered with desire, there was so much he wanted from her and he was determined to take it.

 

Grabbing her wrists he gently forced her arms back down to her sides. She protested briefly, but he silenced her with a deep, possessive kiss. "Trust me," he whispered, his mouth leaving hers as he slid down her body in one long caress, settling between her spread thighs. She gasped his name and her hips jerked with his first seeking touch. "Easy," he murmured, lightly tracing random patterns on the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, easing her into accepting this intimate touch. She sighed and he felt some of the tension ease out of her muscles as he continued with the undemanding caresses. The way she was reacting made him wonder if this was something new to her, a thought that filled him with intense satisfaction and an even greater determination to please her. 

 

Intent on only one thing now—Sam's pleasure—Jack began stroking carefully through her slick folds, murmuring gentle reassurances to her while his nimble fingers searched out her hidden secrets. Even though they she had given him her body in that earlier mating, what they were doing now was infinitely more intimate. She whimpered softly when he probed at her tender opening, the delicate caresses causing her legs to quiver helplessly, one hand leaving her side, her fingers tangling almost desperately in his hair. 

 

"Easy, love," he murmured again, not sure if she heard him or not, but too intent on his task to offer her anymore reassurance. He felt her almost imperceptible flinch when his hot breath washed across her swollen flesh and he smiled, his fingers expertly parting her slick folds, tangling in her soft curls, until he found that which he sought. 

 

Sam's hips arched off the bed and she gasped his name at the first touch of his mouth against her. Laying a heavy arm across her lower abdomen, Jack forced her back down on the bed, never once removing his mouth from her tender flesh. He sucked and licked, tracing random patterns with his tongue that soon had her writhing beneath his mouth. Her soft cries told him of her pleasure, as did the subtle tension that he could feel coiling in her taut muscles. Determined to unleash her passion, Jack continued his relentless assault, randomly sucking and then stroking her clitoris with his hot tongue. Increasing the intensity, Jack deftly inserted one, and then two long fingers deep into her snug channel. She cried out sharply, her hips bucking against him as he desperately hung on, the dual onslaught of his mouth and fingers at last forcing her over the edge.

 

Jack groaned as she sobbed his name, the tremors of her orgasm wracking her body and flooding into him. Her internal muscles contracted insistently around his probing fingers, making him ache for the moment when he'd have his penis buried deep inside her while she climaxed. Reluctant to release her, Jack continued to tenderly caress his lover with soothing touches, gently easing her down from the pinnacle of rapture.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam moaned softly, slowly returning to awareness, her body still vibrating in the aftermath of her explosive orgasm. Only vaguely aware of her surroundings, she hadn't even realized she was crying until she felt Jack's strong arms wrap around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Don't cry, baby," he whispered roughly, "it's okay." 

 

Clutching at him tightly, Sam buried her face in his throat, absorbing his strength. Never in her—albeit not extensive experience—had she ever experienced an orgasm as intense as the one she'd just shared with Jack. And he hadn't even used anything more than his mouth and hands! She trembled, wondering absently how she'd ever survive his total possession and unashamedly eager to find out. Stroking his hair she whispered, "I'm sorry...it's just that I've never...." Oh god, what was she admitting? She felt her face grow warm, and overcome with embarrassment, she once more buried her face in his throat. 

 

Jack moved then, and Sam let him gently disengage her arms from around his neck, resting her head back against the pillows. "Tell me," he rumbled, looking down at her, his expression pleased and smug and unbearably proud of himself.

 

She studied his care worn face, though the dim light hid the worst of it, she knew this latest experience had aged him. God, she loved him so and had almost lost him, what did her pride matter in the face of that? "Contrary to my recent behavior," she started, alluding to the evening when she'd seduced him. He nodded, his expression turning serious. "This isn't something I do a lot." He nodded again and she could swear she saw his lips twitch. God, the man was going to be insufferable after this. Her lips curved into a provocative smile. "Let's just say mister, that I'm pretty sure I felt the earth move."

 

"You're only 'pretty' sure?"

 

She nodded, smiling happily and looping her arms around his neck.

 

"Well, then I guess I'll just have to 'make' sure it moves," he growled.

 

"Please do," she whispered, as he lowered his head. Closing her eyes, Sam immediately opened her mouth to his questing tongue, reveling in the eroticism of his open-mouthed kiss, wildly aroused by the thought that she could still taste herself on his lips, his tongue. Strong hands swept down her body, confidently stroking her, arousing her. He moved and Sam shifted with him, spreading her legs and making a cradle for him between her thighs. Clutching at his hips, she angled her pelvis, rubbing herself against his straining erection. The ache inside her was growing again and she desperately needed him to fill it, and she needed him to find his release in her.

 

"Jack," she moaned, trailing a hand from his hip and across his belly and gently grasping his penis.

 

"God, Sam..." he groaned, sagging against her while she stroked him, her relentless touch urging him ever closer to her moist center. 

 

"Help me, Jack," she whimpered, angling her pelvis and wrapping her slender legs around his hips. Jack finally obliged, gripping her hips in his strong hands while she guided him into her soft depths. "Oh, Jack, please..." she pleaded as he slowly broached her snug channel. She tugged at his hips, frantic to have him fully inside her.

 

"No," he groaned, his voice barely recognizable. "Trust me, it will be better this way."

 

Endless moments later, Sam was sure 'his way' was going to kill her. After finally filling her, he started a slow and steady rhythm of penetration and withdrawal that had her gasping and desperate for more. And it seemed no amount of breathless pleading would deter him from his set course, so Sam finally surrendered and followed his lead. Moving easily with him, she soon discovered he was right, it was better this way. 

 

Once she quit trying to control the situation, Sam found she could concentrate on other things...like the easy strength of her lover as he moved within her, stretching and filling her so completely. The smooth flexing of his muscles under her hands, the heat that emanated from him and enveloped her senses. Moaning in pleasure, she gently bit his shoulder, then licked his sweaty flesh, glorying in the throttled groan her caress provoked. 

 

"Do you want more?" he growled, returning her biting caress.

 

"Yes," she whimpered, tightening her legs around his narrow hips and raking her nails lightly down his back.

 

His lean frame shuddered violently against hers, she could feel all his muscles tighten and she gripped his shoulders, bracing herself for the ride to come. And oh, it was a wild ride. Jack started out slow, keeping his movements shallow, still determined it seem to make their joining last as long as possible. However with each passing minute, he thrust deeper, moving more and more powerfully into her willing body. He pounded into her and she met each thrust eagerly, straining with him towards the ultimate goal. 

 

Jack groaned harshly, his movements becoming more erratic and Sam knew he was close. "Help me," she sobbed, frantic with the need to join him in ecstasy. In one fluid movement he shifted, coaxing her legs higher around his waist, one sure hand slipping between their joined bodies. At the first touch of his strong fingers on her throbbing flesh, Sam let out a shuddering breath that was his name. He somehow managed to stroke her in time with his thrusts and she found herself clutching wildly at his hips, instinctively moving with him. And then it was happening again, she felt the tension low in her gut grow and expand, spreading out in waves throughout her entire body. Her back arched and she ground her pelvis against his hand, crying out his name. And it was better, so unbelievably better because this time he was inside her and it went on forever and ever, her internal muscles contracting helplessly around his rigid length. 

 

Whimpering softly in the aftermath of her orgasm, Sam clung weakly to Jack as he once more started thrusting heavily. She continued to move with him, as best she could, murmuring soft words of love and encouragement. His arms suddenly tightened around her, and he buried his face against her throat, grinding his hips convulsively against her as his orgasm raced through him. Sam held him close while he shuddered in her arms, tears welling up in her eyes as he filled her with his seed, love for him flooding her heart and soul.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam woke abruptly, her heart pounding. Confused and disoriented, she knew she wasn't in her own bed and her panic only increased until she remembered where she was. At Jack's, in his bed. He wasn't in the bed and she panicked again, sitting up and anxiously trying to see any sign of him in the dim room. A movement by the window caught her eye.

 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." He had opened the drapes and she could see his silhouette against the pre-dawn light, as he stood gazing out the window, his back to her.

 

"You didn't," she murmured. He didn't say anything more, just continued to stand and stare out the window. His shoulders were slumped and the air of melancholy emanating from him filled the room. Knowing that the shared intimacy of the night guaranteed nothing, Sam none-the-less left the bed and went to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind and resting her head against his broad shoulders. He stiffened momentarily, but didn't move away.

 

"What is it?"

 

"Just the usual," he muttered. 

 

The resignation and acceptance in his voice tore into her heart and she tightened her arms around him, kissing his shoulder blade. Not knowing if he'd answer or not, she had no choice now but to ask. "How can I help?"

 

"You already have." He turned in her embrace then and she looked up at him, searching for the truth. Yes, his eyes were still shadowed but she could also see the faint glimmer of hope in their deep brown depths.

 

"I love you, you know." 

 

Sudden light flared in his eyes with her words. "I know," he murmured, reaching for one of her hands and threading his fingers with hers.

 

"I'll always be here for you," she told him, determined to reassure him, to let him know he wasn't ever alone.

 

"I know that, too." He finally smiled; a soft, gentle curve to his lips that warmed her to her very soul.

 

THE END


End file.
